Trick of the Palm
by eclecticxdetour
Summary: WINCEST of the SamDean Persuasion Rated M for Extreme SLASH Summary: Dean discovers a trick to calm Sam down when his brother is a baby and learns it still works even after Stanford.


**Warnings**: weechesters, ass rubbing, barebacking, bottom!Sam

Written for a prompt over on LJ: _Since he was a baby, the only way to calm Sam when he was scared or angry, is to rub over his ass, full, gentle but firm caress against his jeans, or pajamas or boxers. It works like magic, Sam's butt is sensitive, it's like Sam's secret achille's heel, he just melt and go pratically boneless when it happens and forget why he was sad, or throwing a tantrum. Only Dean knows that, discovered it by accident (choice on you) The more Sam grow up, the more rebellious/ansty he acts and the more Dean have to do it, it's always to calm Sam, to comfort him, never out of anger, and if Dean start to notice Sam's firm, peachy globes, he force himself to not act on it._

After Standford, Dean doesn't think Sam need it, but they stumbled over a witch that curse Sam making his emotions messed-up. He's short temper, always angry and get emotional. Dean have to use the trick again, but after two years separate from his baby boy, he doesn't show the same restrain.

* * *

It all started because of John.

Not _everything_.

Just _this_ thing.

Dean had discovered it by accident, really. His tiny baby brother's weakness. He had no idea what to do with his screaming brother, Dad running on empty since Mom was taken away from them.

"Just do _something_ about, Sammy, Dean, alright? I just…need a few minutes of quiet," said John, carefully placing Sam in Dean's lap, making sure Dean had a hold on Sammy where he sat on the edge of the bed before stepping out of the motel room.

"I don't know what you want, Sammy. _Sh_," said Dean, staring down at his brother's squished face. He shifted Sam in his lap, holding Sam against his shoulder, one hand cupping Sam's backside, supporting Sam's fuzzy head with the other palm.

Sammy snuffled against his shoulder, cries a little quieter, baby brother still not completely happy.

"It's alright, Sammy, I'm right here," whispered Dean, patting Sammy's bottom, rubbing his hand over Sam's diaper. He jiggled his leg, realized Sammy was asleep against him, drool dripping over his neck where Sam had sucked on his t-shirt collar.

John slowly pushed open the door, face relaxed, small smile pulling at his mouth, Sammy silent in Dean's arms. "You got him to calm down."

"I think he's just tired, Daddy. I am, too," said Dean, frowning when Dad pulled Sammy out of his arms and lay him in his bassinet.

"Well get changed into your pajamas and get into bed, Dean-o. It's," John sighed and slumped on his own bed, "it's been a long couple of weeks."

Dean hugged his dad after he changed, crouching by Sammy's bassinet and kissing Sam on the forehead. "Good night, Sammy. I love you," he whispered, looking to Dad and smiling before he climbed into his own bed and closed his eyes.

* * *

"_Sammy_. You can't have Lucky Charms for breakfast because _we don't have any left_. You ate the last of it when you were watching Alvin and the Chipmunks yesterday, remember!"

"But, Dean!"

"End of story, kid," said Dean, pouring Honey Nut Cheerios in Sam's bowl.

"Go buy more!" wailed Sam, standing up from the card table, chubby arms crossed over his chest.

"You want me to just _walk_ into town?" At Sam's nod, Dean scoffed, "You're nuts. Eat your breakfast."

"No."

"No?" asked Dean, advancing on his little brother, mimicking Sammy's pose.

"You heard me."

"Alright, fine. _I_ will eat your Cheerios." He sat at the table, inching the chair closer and closer to the table. He curled his fingers around Sam's spoon.

"Wait!"

Dean grinned and stood from the chair. "Yes?"

"Go get me some Lucky Charms!"

"Sam!" groaned Dean, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Not gonna eat until I get Lucky Charms."

Dean rolled his eyes and curled his arms around Sam's body, grip tight around his little brother, Sam struggling against him. He sighed and cupped the crown of Sam's skull, other hand finding Sam's bottom, gentle up and down over Sam's butt making Sammy sag in his arms.

"Do you _really_ need Lucky Charms?"

Sam sighed and shook his head.

"That's right, because there are perfectly good Cheerios right there, Sam," said Dean, pulling back from his little brother, hands curled loosely around Sam's arms.

"Fine," said Sam, slumping into the folding chair before shoving a spoonful of Cheerios in his mouth. He looked at Dean and pointed his spoon at his brother, Cheerios falling out of his mouth as he said, "But next time, we get two boxes of Lucky Charms."

* * *

"Dad's such an _asshole_," groaned Sam, flopping face-first onto his and Dean's bed, arms curled around his pillow. He turned away from Dean, eyes narrowed as he stared at the wall.

"It sucks, Sammy, but we have to," said Dean, sitting next to his brother, hands hovering awkwardly over his brother's back. He dropped his hands into his lap and let out a slow breath. "We gotta leave, kid."

"But_ why_, Dean? Why do we have to leave? Dad's not in trouble with the law here. You've got a decent job and I'm doing well in school. So tell me _why_ we have to leave." Sam groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

Dean shrugged. "That's just how it is." He let himself press his palm between Sam's shoulder blades, patting Sam until Sam sighed.

"I hate this. Do _you_ want to leave?"

"Not really, but I know we need to," said Dean, hand rubbing lower down Sam's back, little brother going tense beneath his touch.

"But we _don't_ need to."

"Dad says we do." Dean reached Sam's backside, entire body wound tight until he rubbed his palm over Sam's ass, smooth up and down motion over Sam's jeans.

Sam went slack, hips lifting just the slightest as a huge sigh fell from his mouth. He shifted and looked at his brother. "I know," he stayed on his stomach for another minute, slowly peeling his eyes open when Dean stopped rubbing. He hefted himself up off the bed and said quietly, "Help me pack my stuff."

* * *

He'd been on a hunt with Dad. They'd been gone two weeks and he had no way of telling Sammy they were okay. Dad was less than alright and Dean had raced them back to their apartment complex, knew he'd need Sammy to help him patch up John.

They'd gotten Dad cleaned up and into bed before the crying started, fat tears streaking Sam's flushed cheeks, snot thick and shiny beneath Sammy's nose.

"Sorry, Sammy," whispered Dean, letting Sam press his face into his chest, Sam's arms tight around his neck. His brother may have been fifteen, but he still cried like a child at the thought of him or Dad getting hurt, of losing the only people he loved. He circled his arms around Sam's waist, palms automatically finding Sam's behind, soft rub over the firm muscle gentling Sam's snuffling.

He rocked Sam against him until Sam was silent, still except for the soft rise and fall of their chests and his hands soothingly rubbing. Sam's hips jerked against his own when he squeezed Sam's ass, breath catching when Dean realized he was hard.

He pushed Sam away from his chest and rolled his eyes at the mess of Sam's face. Dean nudged Sam's cheek with his fist. "Look like a girl who got stood up on prom night, bitch," he teased, clearing his throat when Sam's gaze dropped between them, eyebrow cocking when their eyes met.

"Whatever, jerk," answered Sam, using the bottom hem of his t-shirt to wipe his eyes. He stood in front of his brother for another moment before turning toward the bathroom, calling quietly over his shoulder, "I'm glad you're okay."

* * *

"You go out every goddamned night, Dean!"

"Yeah, to make _money_, Sam!"

"That shouldn't have to be your responsibility!" said Sam, stepping closer to his big brother.

"_You_ are my responsibility," answered Dean, standing toe-to-toe with Sam, head tilted back just the slightest so he could look Sam in the eye.

"I'm _seventeen_; I can look after myself."

"Then you shouldn't care if I go out or not!"

"Oh, right," groaned Sam, arms flailing, "because I _really_ fucking enjoy staying in the motel when you're out at the bar drinking and then fucking anyone that looks at you!"

"Is that what this is about? You think I just fuck everyone at the bars? Well I _don't_, Sam. There's no time for that when I'm constantly thinking about you and if you're okay!"

Sam groaned again, arms crossing over his chest, brow knit in a tight furrow. "You _never_ invite me out with you."

"You haven't looked old enough," said Dean, slow cadence of Sam's voice letting him drop his guard. He slowly curled one arm around Sam's waist, other arm following when Sam didn't move to hit him. He wedged one foot between Sam's, hands finding Sam's ass, slow puff of Sam's breath against his neck putting a smile on his face, little brother lax in his embrace, palms sliding smooth and firm over Sam's buttocks.

Sam's breathing stuttered against his neck. "Let me go out with you."

"Yeah?" asked Dean, palms resting where Sam's ass met the backs of his thighs, thumbs rubbing over the bottom curve. Sam pressed himself closer and he could feel the hot length of Sam against his hip. He sucked in a slow breath.

Sam nodded against his brother's throat. He pressed his mouth to Dean's ear, "Maybe I'll be the one looking at you."

Dean let out a long exhale, eyes squeezed tight as he stepped back from Sam. "You're such a punk," he laughed, punching Sam's shoulder. "Hurry up and change your shirt if you wanna go with me. Ain't going to be picking up any girls with that mess on."

Sam frowned and nodded once, brow tight. "R-right. Go on, then, I'll meet you in the car."

* * *

"I can't do it anymore, Dean, I _can't_," said Sam, shifting his duffel over his shoulder, laptop case clutched tightly in his fist.

"I know, Sammy," whispered Dean, shifting against the Impala. "You do what you gotta do, kid."

"I don't _want_ to leave."

"You do."

"I don't want to leave_ you_."

"It's not forever, Sam," said Dean, voice catching in his throat, Sam's gaze glassy. "You can't pass up a full-ride."

"Fucking _Dad_."

"Hey, man, that wasn't him and you know it."

"Did you hear what he _said_, Dean? _Fuck_," sighed Sam, dragging his palm down his face, tears spilling over his bottom lids.

Dean swallowed hard. He stepped away from the Impala and curled his arms around his baby brother, patting Sam's lower back, Sam's long arms wrapped around his shoulders. Wetness seeped into the lapel of his canvas jacket and he finally let himself rub Sam's behind, gentle strokes as his little brother sobbed, Sam embracing him tighter.

"It's alright, Sammy," murmured Dean, pressing his face against Sam's hair. He flicked his gaze toward the greyhound pulling up behind his brother, Sam stepping back from him, palms framing his face.

He watched the Greyhound pull away with the taste of Sam's tears on his lips.

* * *

And Sam was on such a short fuse, now. He didn't know when it had happened, but Sam had gotten himself cursed and every little thing fucked with his emotions. What used to annoy his brother pissed Sam off to no end and what upset Sam had him buried in an oversized hoodie with snot dripping down his face. They figured the way to combat it would be to wait it out.

Dean was surprised he was even able to get Sam out of bed the second morning. His little brother had woken up yesterday lashing out at him for something he had done in Sam's dream. It had taken half an hour of reassurance to calm Sam down and by that time he no longer wanted to take his brother out to get breakfast.

"You ready?" he asked slowly, watching as Sam pulled on a flannel over his v-neck.

"Yeah, sure, lemme just grab-" said Sam, slipping his wallet into his back pocket before grabbing his mobile. "Alright, man, ready."

Dean grinned and held the door open for Sam, testing the handle before following Sam toward the Impala. Sam slipped in beside him and he turned toward his little brother. "Where do you feel like going?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't care; I just want something to eat, Dean."

"Are you sure? I don't want you complaining about where we go…"

Sam sighed and rubbed his eye. "Wherever is fine, I swear."

"Alright…" said Dean, pulling out of the lot and heading toward the diner.

He kept the radio off as they drove, didn't want Sam to get triggered like he had yesterday, some top-40 break-up song making Sam bawl into the sleeve of his canvas jacket.

The diner parking lot was crowded. Mid-afternoon on Sunday drawing in the post-worship crowd. Dean was surprised the host said the wait would only be twenty minutes. He ushered Sam to one side of the door so patrons could more easily filter in and out.

A couple sat on the small bench next to them, girl's hands covering her boyfriend's larger hand where she held it in her lap. He watched them for a moment before taking account of every customer around the diner, gaze landing back on Sam.

Dean's brow furrowed. Sam's lips rolled between his teeth, eyebrows drawn together as he frowned, tears glistening where they were gathered behind Sam's lower lids. He reached out for his brother, hands landing on Sammy's shoulders before Sam crushed him in a hug. Sam's tears dripped down the back of his t-shirt and he had no idea why his baby brother was crying. "Shit, man, are you alright?" he asked quietly, hands rubbing over the breadth of Sam's shoulders.

He heard Sam sniffle next to his ear and he pulled back from Sam, glancing over his own shoulder back to where the couple was sitting. The young man was crying now, woman repeating how sorry she was that their relationship wasn't working out for her. Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Sam to him again.

"Jesus, Christ, Sammy, it's okay you big girl," he muttered, hands sliding down Sammy's back so he could curl his arms around Sam's waist, Sam's arms tight around his neck, Sam's messy hair tickling his cheek and neck. "He'll find another girlfriend, man."

"D-_Dean_," whimpered Sam, shifting impossibly closer to his big brother, worming a foot between Dean's so that there was no space between them.

"_Really_, Sammy, he'll get over it. Fuck, you act like it was _you_ that got dumped," he whispered, neither Sam's cries nor his snuffles quieting. He slipped his hands lower, hadn't done it for close to six years, but he felt Sam go tense under his hands, fingers just under the worn leather of Sam's belt.

He heard Sam swallow and let out a slow breath, lowering his hands even further to the firm curve of Sam's butt, ass warm under his palms. "Shhh, man, it's alright. Seriously. You're fine, Sammy," said Dean, rubbing circles over Sam's jeans, Sam's body going loose against him.

Sam sniffled twice more and Dean gently shooed away a waiter, mouthing 'It's okay' at him before the waiter nodded and walked toward the kitchen. His brother stilled, silent in his embrace.

"You okay now?" he asked, leaning back.

"Y-yeah. Sorry, Dean. Thanks," said Sam, wiping his face on Dean's shirt, muscles flexing under Dean's hands. "Uh, y-your hands…"

"What?" asked Dean, letting himself give Sam's ass a firm grope.

"Your table is ready, gentleman, if you'll just follow me," interrupted the host.

Dean stepped back and gestured for Sam to follow the host. "After you, man."

"Great, thanks so much," said Sam sitting with his back toward the front door so Dean could watch the exit.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sam?" asked Dean, little brother's eyes puffy and red-rimmed. "I can get breakfast to go and we can head back to the motel…"

"No, man. I'm," Sam sighed and smiled, "I'm fine. Thanks for," he said, gesturing back toward the entrance, "what you did."

"Yeah, don't mention it," said Dean, flipping open his menu and smiling at their waitress.

* * *

"I thought you'd forgotten about that," said Sam, tossing his wallet onto the side-table between their beds.

"About what?" asked Dean, kicking off his boots and falling back onto his bed.

"You know," said Sam, sitting on the edge of his own bed, hands clasped together between his thighs as he looked at Dean from under his bangs.

"Right, _that_." Dean ran his fingers through his hair, glancing over at Sam before crossing his arms behind his head. "Like I said: don't mention it."

Sam let out a slow breath and lay on his side, silent. Dean turned toward him, eyebrow almost in his hairline it was cocked so high. He sighed. "Don't think I don't remember, Dean."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't _do_ this, Dean," said Sam slowly.

"Shit, Sam, okay." Dean sat up and dropped his legs over the side of his bed.

"The first time you took me out…"

"You were pissed at me."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what _are_ you-"

"Don't _play_ with me! I _know_ you remember. I," Sam flipped onto his back, voice softer, "I thought something was going to happen and then you just blew me off."

"I didn't _blow_ you off, I-"

"We were both hard, you had your hands on my ass, Dean, and you pushed me away! I don't know what your definition of blowing someone off is, but that fit the bill in my book!"

"_Sam_…"

"I didn't just forget about it, either," said his brother, and Dean could _hear_ the tears at the back of Sam's throat_._

"So you still feel that way about me? Even after you left and Jessica and-"

"Of course not, Dean," answered Sam, sitting up, "my face is just leaking for no reason at all." He tugged at the sleeve of his flannel and dragged it over his face.

"Come here."

"W-what?"

"There's only one way to deal with you when you're like this," whispered Dean, patting his leg when Sam frowned, "Come here."

Sam crossed the space between them and stood between Dean's spread thighs, "I don't—_Dean_," he gasped, knees pressed against Dean's hips as his big brother cradled him in his lap, palms cupping his ass. He dropped his arms around Dean's shoulders, afraid he would fall off of Dean's lap until Dean shifted backward and they toppled together on Dean's bed.

"Is this what you wanted?" asked Dean, massaging Sam's ass, glad that Sam stopped tearing up, little brother half-hard against his stomach.

"It's _still_ what I want," whispered Sam, sniffling. He shifted his legs around Dean's hips, shimmying down Dean's thighs so they were pressed together.

"Jesus, Sam, you don't know how many times I just wanted to squeeze your ass. So tight, baby boy." Dean squeezed, pulling Sam against him as he rocked up.

"Should've," answered Sam, leaning down and brushing his mouth over the length of Dean's throat, smiling against Dean's Adam's apple when his brother tipped his head back.

"Am now. You're sure about this?"

Sam nodded, sucking at the juncture of Dean's neck and shoulder. "Are you?"

"What, can't you tell?" asked Dean, moving to flip Sam onto his back, smirking when Sam grinned down at him.

"I might have an idea," whispered Sam, looking Dean in the eye before leaning down and kissing his brother, soft press of their mouths together quickly escalating to massaging tongues and roaming hands. He slid his hands up under Dean's shirts, pulling back long enough to order Dean to take off his clothes. He worked on his own clothes, down to his underwear when Dean manhandled him onto his back, big brother flushed and naked atop him.

"Jesus, Dean," panted Sam, sliding his hands up Dean's haired thighs before he went for Dean's ass, big brother's cheeks muscled and firm under his questing palms. "Been hiding this under your jeans?"

"I don't hide anything. Maybe you've just been interested in other things," answered Dean, guiding one of Sam's hands to his cock, thick and hard where it curled toward his stomach.

"I might have thought about this," said Sam, stroking Dean's erection, gentle tugs, using Dean's precome to slick his brother's dick before he gripped Dean firmer.

"Yeah?" moaned Dean, rocking into the curl of Sam's fingers, mouth open in a lazy 'o' as he panted.

"What you would feel like."

"_Fuck. _Yeah?"

"Yeah, Dean, when I rode you," groaned Sam, lurching up and flipping Dean beneath him, using Dean's disorientation to remove his boxer-briefs.

"God, is that what we're doing?"

"Do you have lube?"

"In my duffel."

"Then that's what we're doing," said Sam, smirking at Dean and then climbing off the bed, searching in Dean's duffel for only a moment before tossing lubricant onto the bed. He threw one leg over Dean, settling on his brother's thighs, curling his fingers around Dean's wrists and guiding Dean's palms to his ass, rubbing back against Dean's hands.

"How am I supposed to-"

"I will," answered Sam, leaning down and catching Dean's mouth, tongue sliding over Dean's bottom lip before he sucked.

"But I want to."

"Then you can." Sam smiled at his brother, snorting when Dean frowned. He reached for the lube and pressed it against Dean's chest, tipping his head toward it until Dean took it.

Dean squeezed a liberal amount of gel between Sam's cheeks, flicking the cap down and setting it aside. "We're really going to?" Sam nodded. "You're…not going to _cry_ are you?"

"Why would I cry, Dean?" huffed Sam, shifting on top of Dean, lubricant slipping down his crack, cold against his perineum.

"Because you've been…_weird_ the past day and a half…"

Sam shrugged. "I don't _feel_ weird anymore," he said, poking Dean in the chest. "You better put your fingers in me before all the lube drips off…"

"_Christ_." Dean used one hand to spread Sam open, fingers of his left hand sliding through the lube between his cheeks. "Have you done this before?"

"Sex?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean, Sammy," he said quietly, circling Sam's rim.

"A couple times," answered Sam, grinding back against Dean's finger, breath hitching, Dean's finger barely breaching his body. "_Jesus_."

"Are you…sure?" asked Dean, watching Sam's face draw taut.

"Okay, so not for a while," groaned Sam, shifting on his brother's digit, "go slower."

Dean nodded and stopped pressing forward, pulling out and using more lube.

"I didn't say _slicker_," laughed Sam, though he had to admit the extra gel _did_ help.

"It's working, isn't it," whispered Dean, pressing his free hand to Sam's left cheek, easing his finger in to the last knuckle. "You okay?"

Sam grunted. "Peachy."

Dean huffed a laugh. He circled his finger inside his brother, leaning up and capturing Sam's slack mouth, tongue rubbing over Sam's bottom lip before he delved inside.

"_Dean_," panted Sam, cupping Dean's jaw. "Another."

He ground on Dean's fingers, fucking himself open as Dean worked into him with three. "I'm," he swallowed, "I'm good."

Dean let out a slow breath, "Condom?" His eyes widened when Sam shook his head, no time for anything before Sam knelt and guided his cock into his body. He grabbed Sam's asscheeks, fingers digging into firm flesh as Sam took him in to the base. "Jesus _Christ_."

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Shut up," grumbled Dean, fingers alternating squeezing and massing Sam's buttocks, concentrating on his breathing instead of the tight heat around his cock.

Sam planted his hands on Dean's chest, thumbs rubbing Dean's nipples, grinding on Dean's lap, fingers teasing up and down his big brother's sides.

"You, uh, gonna move anytime soon?" asked Dean, moving one hand to Sam's hip, hips jerking upward.

"Can't I just touch you first?"

"Should've thought about that before you sat on my dick." Dean dropped both hands to Sam's ass, fingers dipping down to touch Sam's stretched hole.

Sam shivered. "Oh god, Dean," he moaned, abdomen fluttering as Dean rubbed his rim. He pressed his hands against Dean's stomach and lifted his body, breath catching in his chest as he rocked back down.

"That's it, Sammy." Sam's skin was slick and hot beneath his palms, hands sliding up his little brother's back, Sam making little annoyed sounds every second he didn't have his hands on Sam's ass. "Christ, you don't mess around when you get something you like," laughed Dean, dragging his fingers down Sam's spine before palming Sam's ass again.

"It's your fault." He jerkily rolled his hips, rocking experimentally until he managed to guide Dean over his prostate, head dipping between his shoulders. Sam curled his fingers around himself, slide of his cock against Dean's abdomen not enough stimulation. "F-fuck, that's good," he moaned, angling his thrusts to keep Dean gliding over that spot.

Dean moaned his agreement, hands sliding lower, thumbs wrapped around Sam's thighs, fingers teasing the bottom curve of Sammy's ass as he helped his brother rock on his cock. "Just like that, baby boy," he whispered, fingers digging into Sam's ass.

"Oh god, Dean," grunted Sam, brow furrowing when Dean curled his fingers around his dick. "_Dean_."

Dean rolled his eyes and jerked Sam's cock, other palm still shaped to the curve of Sam's ass. "Just keep moving."

Sam started to protest, but then Dean squeezed his ass and twisted his wrist and he cried out instead, pressing his chest against his big brother's and kissing Dean, sucking at Dean's swollen mouth, eyes locked as he panted Dean's name, breathless noises followed by a drawn out _fuck_ as he came, spilling over Dean's stomach and fingers, muscles taut.

"Fuck, Sammy, _fuck_," groaned Dean, both palms against Sam's ass, squeezing hard as he fucked up into Sam and came. He let out a slow breath and kissed Sam's shoulder, rubbing his hands over Sam's butt as his baby brother caught his breath.

He wasn't surprised when Sam barely moved enough so his dick slipped free, Sam collapsed against his chest, hair tickling the underside of Dean's chin. He slid his hands up and down Sam's back, snickering at Sam's unhappy grumbles before settling his palms on Sam's ass, quieting Sam as his baby brother fell asleep, drool pooling in the hollow of his clavicle.

Dean smoothed his thumbs between Sam's cheeks and when Sam shivered on top of him he knew Sam's weakness was one they could both be glad for.


End file.
